Permission to Doubt: One Woman's Journey into a Thinking Faith

me.

INTRODUCTION

I magine having to stand up in front of hundreds of women to give a talk on Confident Living while struggling with serious doubt. Such was the task I faced several years ago, and as I sat at my desk poring over my notes, overwhelmed by inadequacy, I remember thinking, Who am I to talk about confidence?

Then it hit me: Who better? Who would I rather listen to address the issue of assurance: someone who has never struggled with it, or someone who has had to claw her way through a maze to find it? Don’t try to sell me exercise equipment a twenty-two-year-old airbrushed model is using. Show me a middle-aged mother of four who’s successfully fighting gravity, and then I’ll listen.

Doubt and I go way back. We have a long history together, and our struggle has been fierce. As a speaker, though, I have doubt to thank for uniquely equipping me to address this topic. I speak to women across the country whose struggle with doubt is as real as mine was and who are relieved finally to come clean. I remind them that while doubt terrifies us in a way nothing else can, it need not signal the end of faith. Sometimes it’s just the beginning. So let’s give ourselves permission to doubt.

DOUBTS,

DRY SPELLS,

AND THE

REDISCOVERY

OF FAITH

Truth never lost ground by enquiry.

William Penn

Chapter 1

DEFINING TRUTH

O n a college campus, years ago, I made the frigid January trek back to my dorm room. As I stepped inside, I felt lightheaded with the sensation that a weight was pulling me down. My pulse raced, my breathing became labored, and sheer terror coursed through me.

I was nineteen, and up to that point had been coasting through life quite comfortably. Although in retrospect I realize there had been signs, it wasn’t until that moment of terror I finally realized I had a problem.

The panic attacks increased in both frequency and intensity, and within a month I was crippled by a full-fledged panic disorder that I would attempt to conceal for more than a decade. Doctors were at a loss to dig up a source, and counselors were baffled. I didn’t fit the mold. I was healthy and well-adjusted and had grown up completely untouched by divorce and dysfunction. I was also a Christian, and there was the rub.

People doubt. Christians doubt too. We question things that at one time seemed so deeply embedded in our belief system, we were sure nothing could shake them. But life happens, circumstances change, and suddenly the honeymoon with Jesus comes to an end. Our confidence wavers as depression and despair press in, choking the faith right out of us. How could a good God allow this kind of pain? Didn’t I pray enough? Didn’t I believe enough? Maybe I was wrong.

Some of us experience doubt because our pain no longer fits our understanding of God; others because our theology no longer accommodates our choices. Throw in some disillusionment and a touch of confusion, and the ground becomes fertile for questioning faith. Regardless of its cause, however, one fact remains: doubt always hurts.

All my life I heard well-intentioned people quote the Bible and say that Christians are called to be joyful (1 Thess. 5:16), to live by faith (2 Cor. 5:7), and to be anxious for nothing (Phil. 4:6). Yet, with each terrifying panic attack it become clear to me how short I fell as a believer. I became plagued with fear and anxiety and was forced to endure the kind of oppressive silence that comes when the answers won’t. More than once I pleaded for my sanity with a God I hoped was there. If you’re really there, please, just don’t let me lose my mind.

Questions began to roll through me as though I’d never really thought about anything before. Why was I suffering? Where was God in all this? Did He even exist? Didn’t He care? Years later, as I began traveling across the country as a speaker, I realized that these are the kinds of questions everyone asks, particularly when they’re struggling. Adversity has a way of catapulting us into an exploration of our faith, and while I encourage the investigation before the bottom drops out, I do hear a collective sigh of relief whenever I speak on doubt and people discover they’re not alone. Giving them permission to doubt, validate their pain, and articulate their struggle always brings a measure of comfort. Thinking and asking questions is a good thing, but challenging a belief system isn’t easy. It’s risky and may force us to move outside the comfortable spaces we’ve set up for ourselves. And who knows what we’ll find there?

From the first day of my panic disorder, doubt began chipping away at my faith and set me on a course I would never have chosen for myself. But from where I stand today as a communicator and teacher, I can’t think of better training. Nothing could have prepared me more than picking apart what I knew as truth and discovering for myself what was really worth clinging to and what wasn’t. My journey enabled me to understand a woman’s fear and look her straight in the eye and say, I know exactly how you feel and it’s okay to feel that way.

Thirteen years and many doctors and counselors later, I was finally diagnosed and treated for a heart condition that released uncontrolled adrenaline into my system, fueling my panic attacks. Through one amazing doctor, I discovered a physical cause to my psychological fallout. This solution, however, did not surface one second before God decided it was time, and with 20/20 hindsight, it’s easy to see why. It took a long time for me to figure out what God was up to in my life and what He was preparing me for. Of the two kinds of speakers—those who have something to say and those who have to say something—He made sure I was the former. My battle left me with two unwavering convictions. First, there are different kinds of doubt, and each one calls for its own unique response. Second, doubt does not necessarily signal the end of faith; sometimes it is just the beginning—the perfect opportunity for faith to be strengthened.

The Truth About Truth

Stephen Board of InterVarsity Press and author of the book Doubt made a statement many years ago that proved to be true not only in my own life but also in the lives of the women I speak to. He said those who’ve never really doubted have never really believed. He’s known many Christians, himself included, whose deepest convictions have grown out of personal struggle with serious doubt.

Currently, we have an entire generation of Christians who have grown up in the church, as I did, and would technically classify themselves as believers, but are now staying away in droves. There are myriad reasons for this, not the least of which is their inability to find relevancy and answers to the issues they face in the real world. Also, our society is pluralistic, accepting all beliefs as true. Why should Christians think they have an edge on the truth?

What I’ve discovered about genuine truth, though, is that by its own definition, it isn’t relativistic. It isn’t threatened by our questions and doubts, nor is it determined by culture, opinion, the size of a church building, or evangelistic programs. Its essence doesn’t change. How truth is packaged, delivered, and received, however, must keep evolving, no matter how difficult we find change. Many of us have become skeptical of organized religion in general, and have found religious people pushy, stodgy, judgmental, and homophobic. But let’s not confuse our distaste for certain people, styles, or out-of-date subcultures with the essence of genuine truth. What is it we really object to?

Neglecting to separate the issues would be a little like me talking about my grade school math teacher who emitted a strange odor. Asking for help with an equation became painful in more ways than one. So I made a decision right then and there that I would never study mathematics.

If we’re honest we’ll admit that often our gripe is with Christians and what they’ve done in the name of Christ, rather than with Christ Himself. It’s hard to argue with those whose commitment to Jesus is displayed by feeding the hungry, battling human trafficking, or rescuing the planet. Granted, Jesus asks believers to be set apart and to make a difference, but He certainly doesn’t ask it of unbelievers and He makes it very clear that our primary objective is always love: By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another (John 13:35). Love is a truth that has no variance over time.

But some applications of truth do change and absolutely must. Professor of philosophy J. L. Schellenberg, in his latest offering entitled Evolutionary Religion, is right in this respect. The practice of religion evolves along with people and their unique cultures. However, ultimate truth, something Schellenberg tends to deny, does not change, whether people embrace science and reason or prefer superstition. Truth is not impacted by us. We are impacted by truth.

Dr. Bradley Wright, in his book Christians Are Hate-Filled Hypocrites … and Other Lies You’ve been Told, calls attention to the fact that societies change, and if the church wants to thrive in any culture, it must clear away the clutter of older cultures and adapt to where things are now. Issues like technology, places of worship, and even changes in the average marrying age can and should affect how the church functions and remains relevant. The only constant is the God they seek.

We see instances of change regularly. There was a time when the word fundamentalist was a positive term, referring to those who embraced fundamental truths about a particular concept. Now it’s tantamount to fanatics and suicide bombers. Today, we may be put off by the term devil because it sounds trite and medieval. But unless we sidestep it, or blame it on a selfish gene, we’re forced to confront the fallout of evil every day of our lives. The ultimate truth of the existence of evil is undeniable.

Asking the Right Questions

Questioning a belief system we have been handed isn’t a bad thing. Not only can genuine truth stand up to our doubt, but questions are an integral part of growth. They help clear through the clutter of misinformation and preconceived notions that we so quickly create and draw us back to what’s most important—God and the real truth He provides. How many of us have been derailed from our pursuit of genuine truth by prejudice, bias, or personal preference?

But growing pains are not called such for nothing. A book such as Reza Aslan’s The Zealot has sold well, not because he claimed credentials that were later questioned but because as a culture we are exhausted by the fallout of intolerance. Relativism’s laid-back approach to truth may not be intellectually satisfying, but it feels like a desperately needed breath of fresh air—a release from the bondage of strict rules that are no longer relevant. However, before we throw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater, we better ask a few more questions. The stakes are high.

The apostle Paul wasn’t the most dynamic preacher of his day. He wasn’t like the televangelists we’re used to, with their bleached white teeth and bad comb-overs. He wasn’t particularly tactful either, but he was passionate. He consistently encouraged people to think outside their comfort zone and ask questions. He instructed the church in Thessalonica to test everything (1 Thess. 5:21). Like separating wheat from chaff, truth will prevail and become strengthened in the one who does the honest asking. The apostle commended the Bereans in Acts 17:11 for their investigative skills. To the Colossians he said, See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ (Col. 2:8).

There’s always been a current of truth flowing through humanity causing us to ask the big questions. Why are we here? Is there a God? Is He detached or is He engaged? Does God move us only like we might be moved by a beautiful piece of art, as Aristotle contended? Or is He Calvin’s God, ruling the individual parts of the world by a providential hand?

Paul is encouraging us to keep our minds engaged and ask the questions that confront us. It’s good to stretch ourselves and ponder the big questions, even the ones we can’t answer, because whether our perspectives are eternal or temporal, getting truth right is too important to who we are to settle for being half true.

There are questions we may discover answers to as well, if we’ll simply ask. Today’s emerging church, which asks how to do church in postmodern culture, has become an essential part of the healthy dialogue, but not without making a few people uneasy in the process. Comfortable complacency can be much easier to live with than facing divided opinion.

Dr. Scot McKnight is an insightful New Testament scholar and historian who regularly challenges believers to think outside the box, even with regard to something as basic as how we approach the Scriptures. In his book, The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible, McKnight dares to suggest that whether we’re aware of it or not, we all do our fair share of picking and choosing when it comes to interpreting and applying what we read. He does a good job of encouraging believers to carefully separate negotiables from nonnegotiables.

History teaches us that while people and opinions come and go—along with values, societies, trends, and traditions—truth will stand forever, keeping a person rooted, less likely to be tossed back and forth (Eph. 4:14). All humans, including those of us in the church, tend to be uncomfortable with change. There was a time when the church was quite opposed to a heliocentric position, convinced that the sun rotated around the earth; are there areas where the church is once again blocking beneficial change because it fears the unknown? McKnight, along with many other church leaders of today, would encourage us to consider the possibility that changes may be necessary. And I agree. If the questions that accompany doubt and skepticism can usher in the kind of investigation that allows faith to flourish in truth, they have done their job.

Because They Said So

Years ago, apologist Paul Little told an amusing story about a Sunday school teacher who asked his class, What is faith? A little boy raised his hand and said, Faith is believing in something you know is not true. This story, though mildly amusing at first, becomes considerably less so as we begin to struggle with doubt. We become the little boy in the story and wonder what our faith is really built on. Is it wishful thinking? Is it self-deception? We may begin to wonder why we ever believed in the first place.

Growing up in a Christian home had been a blessing and a comfort up to the point of my first struggle with doubt. Suddenly, it seemed more of a